For Want of a Veela
by Gianfrancesco Fagoccini
Summary: When he was just a little boy, Harry Potter was turned into a vampire. Now in his fourth year at Hogwarts, he is competing in the Triwizard Tournament and wondering what to do with the hundreds of years ahead of him, when he acquires a taste for Veela blood. His thirst will lead him down a dangerous path... AU, rated M for violence and sexual situations.
1. Gabrielle's Finest

With a loud whistle, the second task of the Triwizard Tournament had begun in earnest. Harry watched his three competitors dive into the lake with unwarranted eagerness, and it was all he could do to stifle a weary sigh. He hadn't wanted to continue the tournament after learning that the second task would involve a large body of water.

The task, as with the first, was actually rather simple: all he had to do was dive to the bottom of the lake, retrieve a hostage and bring him or her back within an hour. Dumbledore had said that they'd picked hostages who were close to the competitors, and a part of him was curious to know who they'd picked for him.

His worries were centred around a well-kept secret of his. Harry Potter was a vampire, and as such, he had an aversion to water. It was lucky that the task was taking place in a lake and not a river—he really would have been done for then.

He'd worked long and hard to find a solution. Gillyweed would have been functional, but it would have required him to either remove his menacing dark cloak or keep it on and get it all soaked. In either case, the effect would have been ruined.

Luckily, he had discovered a spell somewhere in the Restricted Section that was just what he needed. With an appropriately uninterested wave of his wand, he created an air bubble around his body. He had tested it previously and he knew it to retain its effect for several hours. As he descended into the water, he idly wondered why such a harmless spell was in the Restricted Section in the first place.

The water shifted around him, leaving him smug and dry. In the minutes that passed, he gained a newfound understanding of the name 'Black Lake,' as when strolling along the lake floor, it was hard to imagine anything more grim and dark. He found it rather picturesque.

It didn't take long for him to pass the figures of his competitors swimming above his head. The fools could not hope to keep up with him. In what had to have been at most ten minutes, he'd already arrived at the merpeople's village, though it was more accurate to describe it as a set of caves that they had declared as their home. The merpeople were rather repugnant creatures, Harry thought, but creatures all the same, with whom he felt a queer sort of kinship. He returned their perplexed stares and carried on.

A crowd of merpeople was assembled around the village centre, encircling a large stone structure which, with some imagination, could have been interpreted as a statue of a merperson. Tied to the statue were four people, of which he recognized three. Hermione Granger and Cho Chang, surely Krum and Diggory's hostages, were divided in the middle by Draco Malfoy, who he presumed was the one he had been tasked with rescuing. If the Hogwarts staff thought that he and Malfoy were remotely close, they couldn't have been further from the truth.

Of course, it could have simply been that they knew as well as he did that he had no real friends, and so had simply picked one of his Housemates.

He pushed his way through the crowd of merpeople, noting that a large portion of them were armed. He received scowls, but to his surprise, none of them attacked him.

From up-close, he could see the fourth hostage, who he did not know by name. She was young, eight or nine years old at most, and had the look of a Veela about her—certainly Fleur's hostage. He made to approach her, curious, but the merpeople pulled him away. He looked back at them and saw amused faces laughing at him. The ones closest to him, on the other hand, were rather disconcerted, presumably after coming in contact with his air bubble.

"Hey, I was just looking," he said.

"You rescue your own hostage," said a particularly tall merperson.

"I will in a minute." He turned back to look at the Veela; she was very cute, even by the exceedingly high standards of her own kind. A thought struck him then—he'd never drank Veela blood. He was well aware that magical creatures tended to come in many unusual flavours. Given the circumstances, this was a perfect occasion to try out a new delicacy.

The merpeople were staring at him, waiting. There had to have been fifty of them in total. It would have been a shame to kill them all, but such sacrifices had to be made. He turned to look at the nearest merperson, who had shifted away from his air bubble.

 _Well… in for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose._

He reached out and pulled the merperson toward him. In a flash, he sank his teeth into its neck. Unfortunately, the blood that ran in its veins was about as appetizing as the flesh, rank and acidic. He felt like he'd drank a juice that had been left to ferment for too long.

He coughed and shoved the merperson aside. Instantly, the gathering was on the offensive, thrusting their spears and tridents in evident anger. He pulled out his wand and swiped his arm in a wide motion. Ripples spread through the water, rapidly engulfing the crowd. The merpeople sank into unconsciousness quicker than they had turned on him.

Now that he was sure he'd not be disturbed, he turned his attention back to the Veela. She'd been tied to the rocks with ropes of weed, which he easily cut with a Severing Charm. As was his preference when trying new flavours, he led her to a slightly more private area. There was a painful shortage of appealing locations, but the tall algae made for easy intimacy.

Once he'd reached a more secluded location, he placed a second air bubble on her, then a Drying Charm. Neglecting this procedure had been one of the first mistakes he'd made starting out—drinking the blood of someone wet, especially during the rain, only diluted the flavour. He couldn't imagine how much he'd be missing out on if he did this underwater.

He looked at her for several moments. Her wispy silver hair and peaceful sleeping face were quite appealing, but he knew his own tastes very well, and scalp blood was a terrible tasting thing. Cheek blood wasn't much better, as he found it far too bitter.

He undid her robes, exposing her pale and blemish-free skin. His favourite types of blood included forearm, thigh, breast, and of course neck, a timeless classic. Recently, he'd discovered that the blood of the navel area was the most delectable of all, and hers was a pretty looking navel. Not to mention how young she was—that always tended to improve the flavours. He was sure he was about to have a fine meal.

He didn't want to outright kill her, though his mind would be swayed if—somehow—her blood didn't turn out to be to his taste. As such, he didn't bite her, as it would have been far too deadly. Rather he drew a small cut with his wand and watched the blood seep through, running down her stomach, staining her underwear. The sight of his victims covered in blood always made them more attractive, he thought.

He pulled her close and licked the blood, right over her cut—and he could have died a happy man right then and there. It was fucking delicious. All the sweetness he'd come to expect from the navel and more, in perfect balance with the taste of iron. There was an added tang that had something of an eastern quality to it, but which he couldn't quite place—it was a reminder that this was an exotic creature, a rare find, a once in a lifetime opportunity.

He waited a few seconds, trying to regain his composure. He needed to taste more of it. He drew a second cut, wider, deeper. The blood coloured her stomach red and ran down her legs. Were it not for the rational part of his mind that so annoyingly ticked away in the background, reminding him that he had a limited amount of time, he would have stripped her bare and had his way with her right at that moment.

The second cut, if possible, tasted better than the first. Like as with the looks of the Veela, the blood was supernatural, above the flavours of a normal person, and certainly much harder to come by. With every sip of her blood, he felt the want to give into his instincts grow, but he was nothing if not strong of will. He could have well thrown caution to the wind, fucked her, bit her and left her to die, but that was a risk he wasn't willing to take.

He was a vampire, and one with a track record at that. If his secret was to ever be found out, he'd be in trouble. Not that he didn't feel sure of his ability to defend himself, but he had many hundreds of years still left to live, and he fancied living them without being prosecuted.

 _They just don't get our struggles, I swear._

He lapped at her blood for a few more minutes, savouring every taste. His impassive face betrayed none of the desires which he so skilfully kept at bay.

After a while, his time was beginning to run out. He'd made it a personal mission to absolutely shame all the other champions in the tournament, and he wouldn't settle for anything more than thirty minutes for this task.

After a couple healing spells, he closed her robes—grimacing at the mental fortitude it took to do so—and brought her back to the statue. When he'd undone the air bubble and tied her back, she looked as though she'd never left.

Then he freed Draco Malfoy and rose to the surface. He glanced at the giant clock hanging between the spectator stands, and grimaced.

"Forty-three minutes?" He was aghast. "Are you kidding me? I aced that shit! That was thirty-five, tops!"

Had the Veela really distracted him that much? She did taste amazing, so he supposed it wasn't out of the question. He brought Malfoy back to the starting point, and when he regained consciousness, he looked very confused. He ignored him and waited for the other champions to return.

It was well over an hour before Fleur returned with her sister, dead last, by which time he'd grown quite tired of Hermione Granger's pestering. The Gryffindor girl was exceptionally sharp and persistent, and in the past few months she'd taken to questioning him about his every little action. She had an uncanny ability to find him wherever he went. This time, she'd wanted to know just how he'd managed to complete the task so much quicker than everyone else.

"The other three are incompetent," he had said.

When the Veelas finally resurfaced, he approached them, putting on his most charming face. Fleur's sister, who he'd learned was called Gabrielle, was clinging onto her. She had a towel over her shoulders and looked quite relieved to be there.

"Did everything go alright?" he asked. "You took quite a long time."

Gabrielle looked up from her sister's shoulder and, noticing Harry, she moved and hid her face completely. He supposed she had a bit of a crush.

"Yes, everything waz all right," said Fleur. She looked quite crestfallen. "Ze grindylows surprised me. I deserve zero points."

"Don't beat yourself up too much." He sat down beside her. He would have tried sitting next to Gabrielle, but he didn't push his luck. "It's a credit to your skill that you're even here."

Fleur laughed mirthlessly. "Please. You beat ze task twice as fast as I did."

"Well—I just got lucky that my strategy worked, I guess," he said.

"But you are also a very talented wizard," she said. "And I waz the one 'o called you leetle…"

"To be fair, you were out of your element—meaning no offense. You're a Veela, right?"

"A quarter-Veela, yes."

For a moment, he didn't say anything, though many thoughts ran in his head. She and her sister were _quarter_ Veela? He felt a shiver down his spine when he pictured tasting a full Veela's blood.

Realizing that he'd not said a word for a few seconds, he quickly spoke. "What I mean to say is—pardon me if I'm wrong—Veela can turn into bird creatures of sorts, isn't that right?"

"Yes, we can," Fleur said somewhat flippantly. He wondered if she felt insulted.

"Well, do you think that might mean that Veela naturally struggle in water environments?"

Fleur considered the question. "I've not thought of eet before. Maybe you're right."

The conversation was cut short when Bagman's voice boomed out over the lake. The judges scored each of the champions, and for the second time, Harry earned the inevitable first place. The sight of Karkaroff's scowling face as he held up a 10 was very amusing.

As the champions and hostages headed back to the castle, he found himself uninterested by the thought of the third task. The tournament had been a welcome distraction from the boring ease of daily life at Hogwarts, but even it hadn't managed to challenge him. Now that he'd tasted Veela blood, though—and only quarter-Veela at that—he found himself wondering if perhaps he was searching for a challenge in the wrong place. Maybe Hogwarts wasn't the place for him. But then where…?

He glanced at Fleur and Gabrielle, who were hanging around at the back of the group. A plan was beginning to form in his head, and a devious plan it was.

* * *

 **Note:** Fuck Hostiel.


	2. Semi-Consensual Kidnapping

_"Though originally from the mainland countries of Southeast Asia, the Veela owe their name to a team of Polish researchers in the mid-17th century, the first to observe and come into contact with these creatures in their natural environment."_

" _The long-upheld traditions of Veela culture have remained virtually unchanged despite centuries of growth and migration. Though nearly all half-breed Veela have integrated themselves into wizarding society, full-blooded Veela still hold strongly to their roots, all of which are centred around the elusive figures of the Veela Kings, the rare and as yet unobserved specimens of male Veela. These male Veela are indeed treated like kings in every respect, and to each is assigned a flock of Veela to rule over. A Veela King is only relieved of his role when another male Veela within the flock comes of age."_

Harry paused on those words, reading them over again. Over the past few days, he'd spent his nights in the stillness of the library, studying and researching, sure that leaving Hogwarts behind would be the most adequate solution to his boredom.

The main object of his interest was the Veela species, their habits, their history. He'd learned a lot of uninteresting things about them, but the latest piece of information he'd uncovered had given him pause. To his slight surprise, full-blooded Veela were said to act much more like creatures than humans, driven by physical needs, and often seekers of instant gratification.

It made sense, when he stopped to consider it. The nature of the Veela was to be sensual; their greatest power was the ability to ensnare the mind of wizards and bend them to their will purely through their sex appeal. He'd encountered the same effect when he'd drank Gabrielle's blood, though he was not so easily controlled.

The notion of male Veela perplexed him, and he had half a mind to dismiss it all as fiction. The author of the book claimed that they were unobserved, yet seemed to know an awful lot about them. If what he wrote was true, though…

 _Whoever this 'Veela King' is, he's one lucky guy._

Harry considered the idea. He saw himself sitting on a throne in his dark castle—a must-have for any proper vampire—with a flock of dozens of full-blooded Veela, with which he could do as he pleased.

Suddenly, he felt as though the scales had fallen from his eyes. He recalled reading the pamphlet for the Vampirism Crash Course when he was just a little boy, scared and alone, mere weeks after becoming a vampire. He'd nicked it from a small library on the corner of Knockturn Alley, and it had firstly said that all vampires were blessed and cursed with the gift of a long lifespan, and that any vampire who didn't wish to live in boredom should find a goal to work towards, as to craft themselves a life they could enjoy for hundreds of years. In that moment, Harry knew he'd found his way.

"Veela King it is," he said out loud. Berating himself, he checked to make sure that Pince hadn't overheard. She tended to be on the prowl at that time of night.

Sure that he had not been found out, he shelved the book, threw the Invisibility Cloak over his head, and left. There wasn't any need for him to stop by the Slytherin common room; he had a cloak over his head and a wand in his hand, and that was all he needed. He navigated the corridors expertly until he found his way out onto the grounds. The crisp breeze was pleasant on his skin, and for a moment he let his cloak fall, so that it could sway menacingly in the wind.

 _Like a true vampire._

He again made himself invisible, considering the possible paths. Straight through the Forbidden Forest was a valid and fitting option, but needlessly risky. He could have taken the Hogsmeade route, but he was worried that a villager would tell on him. With the cloak, he had no real reason to worry, but it was best to stay safe.

He walked leisurely along the perimeter of Hogwarts, past Hagrid's hut and the greenhouses. A pair of carriages was parked in an enclosed courtyard near the Ravenclaw tower, where the Beauxbatons students had elected to stay. The unicorns they'd brought along were sleeping in a handful of make-shift stables that Hagrid had no doubt helped to construct.

A thought struck him then. He paused and observed the carriages. The trip he was preparing to embark on was a long one indeed, if the Veela truly had their roots in Asia as the book had said. Even if they didn't, he would have most likely looked for them there anyway, as Christian symbolism was hard to come by in that part of the world. Why not, then, grab a little companion for the journey?

With his mind made up, he headed for the courtyard, wondering which of the decorated carriages to check first.

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

The incantation had caught him off-guard. His wand was wrenched from his grip and pulled towards an alcove. The silhouette of a student stepped out into the courtyard, picked up his wand, then ran back into Hogwarts and down the length of a corridor.

 _Huh. How did they know I was here?_

Shrugging off his cloak, which apparently did him no good, he followed the unknown assailant down the corridor. His superior vampire-enhanced speed would make catching his prey an easy job, and if he was being honest, he did appreciate the distraction. It wasn't often that he killed in self-defence, and he hadn't drank any blood for nearly two days.

Portraits and sconces whizzed past him as he ran at a full sprint. The assailant hadn't even managed to clear the length of the corridor before he was right behind them. Whoever it was, it was most likely a girl, with dishevelled brown hair and—

"Oh, for fuck's sake." He grabbed Granger by the back of her robes and stopped suddenly, pulling her back. She lost her balance and fell on the stone floor, scrambling back to her feet right away..

"What do you want with me?" he asked. She answered by turning around and running away. In a second, he was in front of her, and she looked at him in shock. The situation was thoroughly entertaining.

He stared at her, unblinking. Her eyes darted around, looking for escape routes, but it was clear that there was nowhere to run. She stared back at him and opened her mouth to speak, but he was quicker.

"You know what, I don't even care," he said. "Just give me back my wand and you'll be out of my hair forever."

Digging into her robes, she held his wand out, but pointed it straight at him along with her own. "You're a vampire."

Her accusation silenced him, and she seemed to take it as a victory, if her smug smile was anything to go by.

"I am," he said. "How did you find out?"

"Dennis Creevey," she said, and her voice was like acid.

"Oh, he was great." The first-year Gryffindor had been his latest meal, and his navel blood had tasted unusually good. Something to do with his diet, he suspected. He'd left him unconscious in a hidden passage. "Are you telling me he survived? I was sure I'd bled him out."

"I found him with the map," she said. He didn't know which map she was referring to. "You took him to the passage behind the statue of Gregory the Smarmy and bit him, didn't you?"

"…yes. I did. How did you—"

" _Stupefy!_ "

The red Stunner covered the distance between them in an instant, but this time he was ready. Calling upon one of his many vampire abilities, he made the area around his chest immaterial. When the spell flew through him, his chest blurred into transparency, sending an uncomfortably warm sensation through his body. It was like the opposite of touching a ghost.

"W-what?"

"No, seriously, how did you know? Have you been stalking me that much?"

"You—what just—"

"Oh, that?" He pointed at his chest. "Yeah, took me a really long time to get that working with spells. It's lucky it's night, or that probably would have hit me."

Granger didn't say anything. Likely she was realizing futility of engaging in a confrontation. She pocketed her own wand, but held Harry's high and tried another Stunner. Despite her using the wrong wand, it worked, but the spell simply phased through him again.

"Look, that's not gonna work," he said. "Good job with my wand and all, but you might as well hand it over now before I—"

Suddenly, Granger reached into one of her pockets and pulled out a metallic object he couldn't identify, and held his wand up to it. " _Lumos!_ "

The light was blindingly bright, and he knew in an instant that she'd armed herself with something horrific. It was a crucifix, horribly Christian and horribly glossy. The light bounced straight onto his face, and it was like someone had forced his face into a roaring fireplace.

He screamed and staggered back, shielding his face. "Agh! You bitch!"

He hadn't been prepared for religion, and there was the possibility that it would be his undoing. His eyes were pressed shut, but he could feel the burn growing, a sure sign that Granger was coming closer. He considered running, but there was no doubt that she'd go mouthing off to Dumbledore, and then everything would be over. There was only one thing for it.

Struggling through the pain, he lowered his hands and looked at her. In a single motion, he leapt and tackled her to the ground. The crucifix flew from her hand, and suddenly the burning was gone. He was on top of her, pinning her to the ground, but she still held his want trained on him, her eyes determined. Reaching into another pocket, she grabbed something and shoved it in his face. It had a doughy feel and smelled absolutely foul. When Granger realized that it had no effect, she pulled the object back, now looking unsure of herself.

Harry was almost insulted when he saw the object she'd used. "Sacramental bread and garlic? Are you fucking serious?"

"What—but I thought that all vampires had an aversion to these things!"

"Okay, racist, if you _must_ know, not all vampires are the same," said Harry. Now he really was insulted. "What, did you have a couple wooden stakes lying around just in case? Were you planning to lock yourself in your dorm and not invite me in?"

" _Bombarda!_ "

A ballsy spell, he thought. The curse phased through his head and dug a substantial hole into the ceiling, sending stone and dust to the floor. Granger looked ashamed of the damage.

"Hey, some of us are trying to sleep here," grumbled a portrait. "If you two are gonna shag, do it in private."

Harry glared at the portrait, sending it scurrying out of frame. His eyes fell on Granger again, who had lost all of her bravado. He decided to have some fun, and positively leered down at her. She was looking anywhere but at him.

"Are you done playing?" he said, his voice a growl. "Give me that."

He snatched his wand from her grip with enough force to sprain her wrist. She pulled her arm back and squirmed under his hold, but she was pinned down far too strongly to break out. She was on the verge of tears.

He gave her the most wicked grin he could muster. "I guess it's my turn now…"

Granger shook her head in a panic. "No! Please, no—don't—"

"In all seriousness, I'm not gonna rape you," he said. His face settled back into neutrality. "I've got things to do. I wouldn't even want to rape you, either, you're nowhere near attractive enough. No, I'm just gonna kill you."

Her cries continued on for a few more seconds, before he decided he was bored of them.

" _Avada Kedavra._ " The corridor flashed green, and Hermione Granger was finally silenced.

He stood up and dusted himself down. Killing her had been high on his priority list for a while now, and he was glad to have had an opportunity so graciously presented to him. He dragged her body out of the corridor and buried it in a makeshift hole a little ways away from the courtyard. With some luck, it would be a good few weeks before it was discovered, by which time he would have disappeared.

 _Now, where was I?_

Throwing his cloak back on, he made his way to the carriages. His scuffle with Granger had been fairly loud, but it didn't seem like he'd woke anyone up. He approached a carriage and looked through the window, but all he could see was blackness. Clearly, they had been obscured so that no-one could look in, or perhaps it was a side effect of the Undetectable Extension Charm.

With a flick of the wand, he opened the door and stepped inside. As expected, the carriage was much larger than on the outside. There was a single corridor that went on for an undetermined length, with rows of numbered rooms on either side. The walls and ceiling were painted a rather ghastly light blue.

There was little he could do besides check every room. Being invisible and gifted with a naturally light step, it was easy to open every door and have a look around. There were lots of pretty girls and boys from Beauxbatons, but he had his mind set on one. He'd find Fleur Delacour and get her to take him to Gabrielle, then he'd be on his way.

He was halfway down the corridor before he found the room he was looking for. Fleur Delacour was sleeping in her bed as gracefully as she did anything else. To his immense satisfaction, he saw that she was sharing the bed and cuddling with her younger sister, a sight that he found enormously cute. He felt a bit bad for disturbing them, but he'd made plans.

Approaching the bed, he held his wand against Fleur's forehead and cast a silent Stunner. He could have killed her, but it would have been foolish. A murder followed by a disappearance would have left authorities looking for a kidnapper, but if the only person missing the next morning was Gabrielle, they'd be looking for _her_. They would no doubt assume a kidnapping, but only after some time.

He cast another Stunner on Gabrielle, then lifted her up and carried her out of the room. She was wearing a light blue nightgown, the traditional Beauxbatons colour, and she looked just as cute as she had under the lake. She smelled faintly of perfume, but he was rubbish with fragrances, so he didn't really know what perfume it could have been.

After about thirty seconds of this arrangement, he was stunned by the impracticality of the arrangement he'd created for himself. He couldn't exactly carry a sleeping pre-teen girl on his shoulder from Scotland to Indonesia. How was it that Muggles did it? Tying their victims up and leaving them in the boot of a car?

He didn't know how to drive, nor did he ever intend to learn, so that clearly wasn't an option. Levitating her on the way would have been easier on his shoulder, but if anything, it would have been even more conspicuous.

 _Damn it, this would be so much easier if I wasn't taking her unwillingly! But it's not like she'd agree to coming along…_

The truth was, Harry had no clue how to handle such a situation. He'd never had a consenting victim before.

 _And it's not like I can just make her consent—_

"Oh, right," he said to himself. "Obviously."

He set Gabrielle down on the grass, admiring how picture-perfect her every feature was. Of course, he reminded himself, that was true of any Veela. Gabrielle's sister would have been just as attractive as her, were it not for his vampirism messing with his hormones.

He flicked his wand, waking her up. Her eyes fluttered open and she sat up groggily. There was a moment in which she looked immensely confused, then her eyes wandered up to meet his own and her face reddened.

He kneeled down so that they were eye level. "Hello."

"Um… hi," she said. Her voice couldn't have been more fitting of her appearance. "Are—are you Harry Potter?"

"That's me," he said. When she didn't say anything, he continued. "How come you were sleeping on the grass?"

"I'm… um… waz I?" she asked. Her accent wasn't much better than her sister's. "I don't remember…"

"Yeah, it's a good thing I found you," he said, standing up. He offered her his hand, which she took gingerly. He thought about what to say next.

"Thank you," she said, her voice small. She wouldn't meet his eye.

"Hey, are you Fleur Delacour's sister?" he asked, and for a moment she looked up at him, surprised. "I think I remember seeing you after the second task."

She smiled slightly. "Yes, that waz me!"

"Yeah, I remember seeing you under the lake. It was pretty scary," he said. "So, er—I… guess we should be going back to—ah, you know what, fuck this."

He crouched down again and grabbed her by the shoulders, staring at her. "Listen. I'm about ready to leave this shithole school, and I'd like you to come with me."

"What?"

"I'll give you food, water, clothes, anything. All you have to do is let me drink your blood and have sex with you every so often."

"W-what?! No!"

"See, I thought you might say that." Harry stood up and pointed his wand at her. " _Imperio!_ "

Suddenly, Gabrielle went glassy-eyed. Her posture straightened and she stared into nothingness, her mind and face blank.

 _Ah, children… so easy to control._ "You want to come with me, and you'll let me do whatever I want with you."

Gabrielle nodded.

"Good. Off we go, then," he said. Gabrielle's motions relaxed, and she smiled brightly. Harry walked towards the edge of the forest with Gabrielle clinging to his robes.

"So where are we going, then?" she asked.

"I haven't quite decided yet. Somewhere in Cambodia or Thailand, probably," he said, looking down at her. "Do you know where that is?"

She frowned, thinking. "Somewhere in Asia. I'm not sure where."

"That's about right," he said. He noticed that her accent was much more subtle than before—possibly a side effect of the Imperius Curse.

As they approached the edge of the forest, Gabrielle's steps became more hesitant, and she pulled on his robes to slow him down. "We don't have to go in _there,_ do we?"

"It's the quickest way out of Hogwarts," he said, "unless you have a better idea."

Her face reddened, and she looked down at her feet. "Well… I was thinking… maybe we could take one of the unicorns?"

Harry blinked. "You know what? That's a brilliant idea."

He meant it. Stealing a unicorn was simple, right in line with what a particularly mischievous little girl might do, and it would make the journey a hell of a lot easier. He wondered if Gabrielle had always had a thieving side to begin with, or if the Imperius Curse had hit her so hard that her morality had been warped to his benefit.

Her unfocused eyes all but sparkled when, a few minutes later, he gently woke one of the unicorns and pulled it out into the field. Gabrielle hid behind his robe hesitantly. It was clear she wanted to approach it.

He stepped aside and nudged her forward. "Go on! You can pet it if you want. You'll be riding it soon enough."

It couldn't have been more than ten seconds after her first tentative pat that she was hugging the unicorn's head. The poor animal looked like it needed more sleep, but he knew unicorns to be very gentle creatures, so he wasn't worried.

With some effort, he managed to separate Gabrielle from the unicorn and hoisted her up on its back. He then swiftly joined her with an elegant leap, sitting behind her. It wouldn't do to forget his theatrics at a time like this.

He leaned forward and rubbed the unicorn behind the head. "Take us away. Go east."

Gabrielle gave an excited squeal when the unicorn took flight, an act which it performed with every ounce of elegance that was to be expected of a creature like it. Soon, Hogwarts was but a fading image in the distance, and he had to give it credit: from up in the sky, it looked rather nice.

Harry and Gabrielle settled into the flight. She dozed off after maybe ten minutes, and he put up a couple of spells to make sure neither of them lost their balance and fell. On the grounds that he was a vampire, Harry didn't get tired, but he did eventually grow bored of the Scottish Highlands mountains over which they were flying. Eventually, he too closed his eyes, and filled his head with thoughts of what he would do in the coming days.


	3. The Danish Tourism Bureau

_I'm gonna have my own vampire castle in the Tibetan mountains, with a dirt road all in the shadows leading up to it, and it's gonna have guard dogs and gargoyles and it's gonna be right on the edge of a cliff, and I'm gonna have my own dungeon with a bunch of hot exotic Veela all ready to do my bidding_ …

A sudden turbulence shook Harry out of his trance. He jerked his eyes open, shielding them from the sun's glare. They were flying over a crystal clear ocean. Gabrielle was still sleeping soundly against him. Small gusts of wind pushed her back into a sitting position whenever she threatened to slip and fall.

He stared, dumbfounded, as the unicorn flew straight as an arrow. _Perhaps on second thought, I should have specified a little more than just 'east'._

Leaning forwards, he patted the creature on the back of the head. "Maybe land the next time we fly over an island."

Sharply, the unicorn veered right. Apparently, it knew where to go to find land, though he wasn't quite sure whether to trust its judgement. The interminable expanse of water went on for long enough that he spaced out again, closing his eyes and returning to his imagination.

He was deep in thought about how to organize the ground floor of his castle when he heard Gabrielle yawn deeply.

"Good morning," he said, opening his eyes. "Probably, anyway. I don't have a watch."

"Morning… where are we?" Gabrielle looked around.

"I'm not really sure. Somewhere."

"Wow… it's so pretty!"

"What, the ocean? It's okay, I guess," he said.

"Uh-huh," said Gabrielle. She leaned forward, stroking the back of the unicorn's head. "But it's not as pretty as he is. We should give him a name."

"I don't think we should," said Harry. "I mean, it's just a unicorn."

"Well, we should still give him a name!"

"Does it matter? It's not like we'll get him confused with another unicorn."

"That's not the point! We can't just call him 'unicorn' all the time."

"I think we can. Besides, I don't know any good unicorn names."

"Think of one!"

"You do it," he said. Then a thought struck him. "Wait, is it even a unicorn at all? I mean, it has wings. That would make it a pegasus."

"No, it's a unicorn. Look." Gabrielle pointed at its head, where a long, spiralling horn ending in a sharp tip was clearly visible. Yet the creature also had two massive wings, and a smattering of feathers covering its body.

"Right. So it's a bit of both, then? I've never heard of an animal like that."

"Madame Maxime says they're unicorns. She raised them herself. They all have wings like this."

"Interesting."

Whatever the animal was called, its intuition had proven correct. Over the horizon came a distant island, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see.

"Where do you think we are?" asked Gabrielle.

"Not sure. I think…" They'd been flying east from Scotland, and the pegascorn had turned right, so they were heading south… "…Denmark? Poland? Somewhere around there, I'd expect."

"I've only ever been in France and England," said Gabrielle. "Is it nice in Denmark?"

"Probably not. Also, Hogwarts is in Scotland."

The unigasus landed on the shores of the island. The sand was coarse, filled with pebbles and even a couple of seashells. Even as they left the beach and headed into the fields, there was hardly anything of interest.

"Flat fields everywhere… absolutely nothing to look at… yes, I do believe we're in Denmark."

He led Gabrielle and the unicorn inward. The best course of action was to keep going until they spotted a wind turbine, which he hoped would lead them to civilization. From there he'd look for a map of some description. Until then, he had only the landscapes of Denmark to keep him entertained.

"How about… Fluffy?"

"No, Hagrid did that already, and it's totally unfitting."

Gabrielle pouted. "That's not fair! I like Fluffy."

"Well, I don't, and you're not in a position to make demands. Think of a name that isn't trash."

This exchange had been going on for far too long. Gabrielle was riding the unicorn, which made for quite a pretty sight. Unfortunately, she had taken it upon herself to find a good name for the animal, and so Harry was in the process of routinely rejecting all the drab, insipid, saccharine names that Gabrielle's childish mind could come up with. He was particularly moody in that moment as he was forced to deal with the sunlight, siphoning him of his forces. He obscured it with his cloak as best he could.

A few minutes later, Gabrielle spoke again. "Alicorn?"

"Because he's a unicorn with wings? Clever, but that's just asking for a lawsuit. Bin it and start over."

"Rarity!"

"Don't fuck with me, Gabrielle. I can't stand My Little Pony."

"Why not?"

"It's a stupid, boring, light-hearted shit-show. It's insultingly light-hearted, as if it's just teaching kids that everything's fine and that life is wonderful, when it's really not."

"I like it…"

"Of course you do, you're a little girl," he said. "But let me tell you, Gabrielle, our journey will teach you much more about life than that trash, annoyingly cutesy program ever could."

"Well, just because it's a cute cartoon doesn't mean that it doesn't have good names for ponies," she said. A solid argument, Harry thought. He'd have to do better.

"You know what? You're right," he said, "but our friend here isn't a cartoon pony at all. He's a real, wonderful creature, so he deserves an appropriate name."

"But you said you don't know any names."

"I don't. So how about we don't give him a name for now, until we find someone who does know some good names?"

"But I wanted to name him now…" Gabrielle looked down, despondent, and the sight was sad enough to make Harry reconsider.

"You can keep trying, if you want. You might eventually come up with a decent enough name."

A few minutes later: "Let's call him Sparkles!"

"I already told you, no names from My Little Pony."

"It's not."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it's not! You're thinking of Twilight Sparkle."

Harry cursed. She was right. "Well, we're still not naming him Sparkles. It's a stupid name."

"It fits him."

"How in the world does it fit him?"

"His feathers are so bright and sparkly."

"I really don't think they are."

"Shut up! I'm calling him Sparkles."

"No, you shut up. I don't think you know who's in charge here."

"Sparkles!"

"Give me one good reason why I should let you call him that," he said, looking back at her.

She stared at him and gave him a mischievous smile. "I'll let you drink my blood."

Harry blinked. "Huh. That Imperius really fucked you up, didn't it?"

"Completely."

"Alright, then Sparkles it is."

"Yay!"

The stunning panoramas of Denmark only grew better when they spotted a series of wind turbines spinning in the distance. Remarkable creations, Harry thought, considering they were the work of Muggles. When they approached them, they discovered that they'd been built in the middle of nowhere, not near a small city as he'd anticipated. Fortunately, they also discovered that a motorway had been built in their relative vicinity. He would have continued their walk, but Sparkles was getting tired, so he decided that they'd stop by and wait for a hitch-hiker.

An hour later, the unicorn was sleeping, not one car had passed by and he was beginning to question his approach.

"Fucking hell, this is awkward," he said. He was trying to drink Gabrielle's blood—he'd spelled her unconscious a while back—but it was proving to be an arduous task. Somehow, he'd never realized how inconvenient of a spot the navel was, but the blood from it was so deliciously sweet that he was willing to make the effort.

He licked up some of the blood, but it was barely a drop. "I need an IV bag."

It was another hour before a car drove by, by which time Sparkles had woken and was nibbling on some grass, and Gabrielle was lying half-naked on the ground. The old hatchback was being driven by someone who had to be equally as old. As he'd expected, the Muggle stopped by when he caught sight of them.

An elderly man stepped out of the car. The noise that came out of his mouth was positively disgusting, as though someone had corrupted an obscure German dialect for hundreds of years and then tried to say a tongue-twister in it while choking on something.

"Excuse me, sir, do you speak a language?" Harry asked. The man seemed to realize what had transpired, as the noises coming out of his mouth changed drastically. It wasn't clear whether he was trying to speak English, or whether he had simply switched to another mating call.

With a world-weary sigh, Harry pulled out his wand. "You know what? I really can't be bothered. _Imperio!_ "

Harry soon discovered that Denmark was much more enjoyable in a car. In his state of Imperius-ness, the man had acquired some English, though his accent was still vile. He was currently driving them—at his leisurely pace—towards the city of Aalborg, which Harry knew nothing about. Sparkles was more than able to keep up with the car, and looked to be greatly enjoying the fresh Danish air. Gabrielle was still unconscious, as Harry had learned that the back seat of a car made for a great storing place for children.

It was some time before they arrived in Aalborg, during which Harry had kept himself entertained with his collection of local opera CDs. To his slight disappointment, there was a dearth of music from the German Romantic era.

Soon, the first buildings rolled into view. Sparkles was forced to stay behind; Harry assigned him a very particular grove of trees and made him swear that he would stay put.

He had to admit that Aalborg was quite a plucky little town. Colourful apartments with sharply sloped red roofs made up a majority of the buildings—at least once they got past the industrial side of the city. There was an appropriate amount of greenery to be found, and the whole place had a calm, relaxed air about it, as though nothing particularly exciting ever happened.

 _This feels like home._

He spotted a theatre and a museum of modern art, which he was eager to check out. A more worrying building stood out among the many homes.

Harry turned to his driver. "Remember what I said. Keep away from the churches, and respect the traffic laws."

The man nodded and turned down a side street. He was driving aimlessly, giving Harry a tour of the city.

 _Right, so where would you get a map… or a globe, actually. I'd like a globe. A big, decorated, elegant looking globe. It'll sit beside my throne. But I'm not gonna find one here, that's a pretty luxurious item. I guess I'll just settle on a regular old—_

Something caught his eye. "Stop. Park this car."

They were in a square, curiously called John F. Kennedys Plads, where an old railway station had been built. The man drove the car into the station's car park, from which the whole of the square was clearly visible.

On the street corner across from them, a run-down antique shop seemed to jut out from the surrounding buildings. A crooked wooden sign had been hanged over the shop, and something in Danish that he didn't understand was written on it. Passersby appeared oblivious to its existence. Further, he'd noticed a very unusual-looking man in a purple cape and top hat strolling into it earlier. The conclusion was evident.

"I think you'll agree, that shop right there is hidden from Muggle eyes," said Harry. "What do you think?"

"You're pointing at an apartment," said the man.

"Aha!"

He left the car in a hurry, then walked over to the driver's side. "Take her with you to the nearest hotel for me, will you? Make her a nice meal and buy her some new clothes—the pyjamas aren't really that good for everyday wear."

The driver nodded. Then Harry flicked his wand, and Gabrielle awoke and stood up groggily in the back of the car. She looked around, her face blank, like she wasn't quite registering what she was seeing, until her eyes fell on Harry.

"Hullo," she said, smiling. "Did I fall asleep? Where are we?"

"Yeah, you were out for quite a while," said Harry. "This man here's gonna take you somewhere so you can have lunch. Don't worry, he's really nice."

"Aren't you coming with us?" she asked.

"Sorry, I'm busy," he said. Gabrielle pouted. "I won't take too long, though. See you later."

"Okay. Be back soon!"

The John F. Kennedy square did not quite live up to its name, Harry thought. It was nothing more than a fairly small paved square ringed by a few trees. There were stairs in the square which he presumed led down to a metro of some variety. Past the trees, a modest statue stood, built from long-oxidized copper, depicting a man riding on a horse.

 _Is that the thirty-fifth president himself? On a horse?_

Upon closer inspection, he found the dates 1863-1906 carved into the base of the statue, so he presumed that it was someone else. He shrugged and headed to the antique shop. It was a quaint looking thing. The signboard, which dangled precariously over the shop, read 'Antikviteter Af Enhver Slags,' the meaning of which he did not attempt to guess.

He was about to walk in when a nagging doubt stopped him. _Shit, is he gonna recognize me?_ _I mean, I would presume most wizards in Denmark know who I am,_ _but would it be enough to recognize me?_

Opting to err on the side of caution, he drew his menacing cloak over his face with one hand, obscuring him from view. He walked in.

The shop was a cramped thing, not much larger than the average bedroom. Every available inch of space had been filled with some sort of old paraphernalia, so that one could only walk from the front door in a direct line to the counter. The man in the purple cape was discussing something with a man who he presumed was the owner of the shop, and it must have been an engrossing discussion, because his entrance had been ignored entirely.

He looked about the shop, where even the ceiling had been charmed to hold as many items as possible, but when he looked closer, he noticed an odd detail, Everything on sale appeared related to silverware, from teacups and plates to bowls and cutlery. He warily eyed the knives and forks hanging magically overhead.

 _Well, that's shitty. Not a globe or map in sight!_

The man in the purple cape turned and began to stroll towards the door, failing to realize that he was in the way. Harry was forced to retreat and leave the shop to avoid a collision. He eyed the man curiously as he too walked out, noting that he was carrying with him a heavy tome, clutching it as though it was a defenceless child. Harry hadn't noticed any books in the shop. Was there more to it than he'd first realized?

 _More importantly, why the hell didn't either of them notice me? I had my cloak all vampire-like and oh, right._

He removed the cloak and stuffed it in his pocket. In his eagerness, he had forgotten that he'd been carrying the Invisibility Cloak since the night before. Beneath it he wore his proper black cloak, which he raised in a threatening fashion as he walked back into the shop.

This time the owner noticed him, making a sickening sound which he presumed was a Danish greeting. He was a middle aged man, with pasty white skin and ashen hair cropped short, and he didn't look to have seen much sunlight in his life, to which Harry could relate.

"Good afternoon," he said spookily when he approached the counter. The man gave him a suspect look, then took a deep bow.

"Good afternoon, O distant traveller, and welcome to my shop."

 _That's way overblown,_ he thought. If nothing else, the man actually had a decent accent. "My name is… Henry," he said. "I understand that my appearance may suggest this, but am in fact not a vampire."

"The thought had crossed my mind," said the owner, "but I then also thought, surely no vampire would be so foolhardy as to stroll into a simple wizarding store such as this!"

"Yes… that would be very foolhardy indeed," he said slowly, wondering whether he should like the man or not. "I apologize, but, well—you see, as it happens… a couple of pesky vampire hunters mistook me for a vampire, which I of course am not, and so I am keeping up appearances in the hopes that they will follow me and I shall lead them into an ambush."

"A splendid plan, young Henry," said the owner.

"Splendid indeed," he said. "Now, tell me, do you happen to have any globes or maps on sale?"

For a moment, he saw a flash of anticipation in the owner's eyes. "Certainly! Follow me, please."

Without a sound, the counter lowered into the ground until it was flush with the floor. The owner led him to a dark corner at the back of the shop, where a small wooden door was set in the wall, so nondescript that he hadn't noticed it until then. Through the door was a short and dimly lit corridor, at the end of which a spiral staircase burrowed into the ground.

"This is the secret of my shop," said the owner as they descended the stairs. "There's not a thing that I don't sell, and if there is, that's only because I'm out of stock!"

The further they descended, Harry was inclined to believe the man's words. The ground had been dug out and carved at regular intervals into a series of underground chambers, far larger and more open than the room at ground level. They passed rooms full of old fishing equipment, foreign language books, make-up and costumes, astronomy equipment, dried cooking ingredients, and even second hand wands. Finally they reached the eighteenth floor, dedicated to maps and globes.

The room was a veritable treasury. He perused old parchments from all eras, modern and antique. Many maps were so old that the countries and continents were visibly deformed and hard to recognize. Finally he found was he was looking for: a large raised-relief globe of iron and bronze, old but in perfect condition. He pictured it resting beside his throne, and he pictured himself swirling it around like a villain. He could practically feel the evilness that it exuded.

"This is an excellent product," he said as he observed Asia on the globe. "How much does it cost?"

"That globe has been waiting a long time for a customer so discerning as yourself to choose it over the others," said the owner. He sounded quite enthusiastic. "I will offer you a special discount! It'll be just three-hundred Galleons."

Harry's heart sank. He had taken his pouch along for the journey, but he was fairly sure that was too expensive for him.

"That's—well, I might have to return tomorrow, because I don't have that much money," he said.

"What about two-hundred and fifty?"

"I don't think so," said Harry. _He sure is eager to sell this thing._

The owner looked dejected. "…two-hundred?"

"Let me check," said Harry. He placed the globe back on the shelf, to which the owner flinched. He pulled out his pouch and rummaged through it.

"If I'm counting right, I've got one-hundred and seventy two Galleons," he said.

"Sold!"

Whatever the reason, the owner really wanted to get rid of that globe, but that was fine for Harry. Soon he was back out on the streets of Aalborg, lighter in money but in possession of the fine globe.

"Alright, now… Gabrielle is in the nearest hotel." He looked around the John F. Kennedy square. "Shit, where _is_ the nearest hotel?"

Drawing the Invisibility Cloak around him, he began to walk around Aalborg in search of a hotel. He reflected on the city's stunning similarity to Little Whinging. The architecture was perhaps a shade more Parisian, but nevertheless there was a sense of familiarity hanging in the air, now tinged with the feeling of dread that he was doubtlessly leaving in his wake as he stroked the globe beneath his cloak.

He soon located a three-story hotel, and saw to his relief that the old man's car was parked in front of it.

 _Now, which room are they gonna be in? I don't really wanna walk in and ask._

He sat in front of the hotel and pondered the situation for how long he didn't know. No nearer was he to finding a solution when a sight distracted him: the man in the purple cape appeared again, strolling casually into the hotel. He still held the tome tight to his chest.

 _Huh._

After some thinking, a solution came to him. The old man had been placed under the Imperius Curse, so all he needed to do was command him to reveal himself. He unsheathed his wand theatrically, concentrating on the sensation of the Imperius.

 _Come to me now, old man, as soon as you can!_

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then a rattling sound rang out from above, followed by a resounding crash. Harry's head shot up just in time to catch a glimpse of a man falling from the third floor of the hotel. The man fell to the ground and splattered in a sea of blood, innards and broken glass.

A sickening groan came from the man as he began to crawl towards Harry, though it was hard to hear over the screams of onlookers. A receptionist ran out of the hotel in a panic, trying to help the man. It was clear that the fall had been lethal; after only a few seconds, the man had stopped crawling and gone very still.

… _Right. Remember to not mess with the Imperius._

He edged away from the man and removed his Invisibility Cloak once he'd reached a safe distance. Using the Imperius he placed over Gabrielle, he ordered her to come to him in such a way that she would not be harmed.

When she left the hotel, she received a few concerned looks, and someone shooed her away from the gruesome sight. Harry was pleased to see that the old man had followed his orders and bought Gabrielle some new clothes and even shoes, so that she didn't have to walk around town half-naked in her pyjamas.

When Gabrielle came to him, she looked worried. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much, just a little hiccup with the Imperius curse," he said. "Don't worry about it."

Gabrielle smiled. "Okay!"

"By the way, check out what I bought," he said, holding out the globe. She stared at it in bewilderment.

"This is how far we've come," he said, tracing a line from Scotland to Denmark with his finger. "Pretty cool, huh?"

Gabrielle shook her head. "No, that's scary…"

Harry blinked. _That's odd._ "Anyway, let's go find another hotel."

He strode forward quite suddenly, and Gabrielle latched onto his arm to keep up. "Can we go see Sparkles?" she asked.

"That's a long walk," he said. "I don't really think I can be bothered right now. And won't you get tired?"

"I'm not tired at all," she said. "I slept in the car."

"Fair point."

With some reluctance on Harry's part, they set off towards the grove where Sparkles slept. Much as he didn't want to go for a long walk, though, he started to think that he couldn't wait to leave Aalborg.


End file.
